Death and Taxes
by Concolor44
Summary: The old saying really is true. And some of these concepts extend beyond the bounds of space and time, a fact Raven discovers here. Rated for a bit of naughty language and one unsettling mention of gore.
1. Chapter 1

**Death and Taxes**

by Concolor44

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_**Author's Note**__: This little plot bunny has been hopping around my head for weeks, and it Just Won't Shut Up._

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_Jump City, April 23rd, 11:48pm_

Nightwing leaped and rolled, coming up behind one of the stone information kiosks on the street, and flexing his hand where it was singed. "_Just a little disturbance in Beecham Industrial Park_, they said. _Piece of cake for you guys_, they said."

Cyborg's voice was tinny in his earpiece. "We'll have to thank Lieutenant Palmer for the invite some time."

"Yeah. Maybe send him a little thermite casserole," he muttered, ducking a piece of shrapnel, "assuming we live through this."

Despite the late hour, the power blackout, and the presence of a heavy overcast, vision wasn't a problem. The pair of three-meter-tall-exoskeleton-clad thieves were making sure of that. Between the pulsed lasers, the flame throwers, the incendiary grenades, and the Gatling guns, there was _plenty_ of light, if you didn't mind getting it in extremely short packets.

"Raven, how's that arm?"

"I'll live."

"Never doubted that for a second. But you said to give you a minute to heal, and it's been a minute and a half."

"Anal-retentive, much?"

"When I'm looking death in its beady, black eye? Hell, yes!"

"The bullet tore a tendon. It's taking a bit longer than my first estimate."

For perhaps the hundred-and-fifteenth time in the last three minutes, Nightwing wished the other half of the team was still in town. But the Justice League had requested Starfire, Terra, and Beast Boy for a special mission where (apparently) their unique blend of talent would be crucial. Having Superman and Batman team up on him for a browbeating session was never Nightwing's idea of a good time, and he'd quickly acquiesced, though he regretted it now.

It made him think that regret was a dish best not served at all.

A wall of flame streaked by on his right, the heat convincing him to seek better accommodations. Racing away just ahead of the stream of tracer rounds that peppered the ground behind him, he yelled, "Cyyyyyy, this would be a good time for some heeeelllp!"

The sonic cannon answered, its beam of all-but-solid concussive force tagging the nearer criminal in the head, knocking him over. He quickly regained his feet, but that tiny interlude was all Nightwing needed to improve his position in the fight. The heavily-armored head swung around, looking for its target and coming up empty. Then a small, metallic ball came singing out of the darkness and adhered itself to the exoskeleton's midsection. The thief inside noticed the impact and was feeling around for what had hit it when the item detonated.

There was a significant burst of overpressure, and a huge fireball in its wake. When the smoke and dust began to clear a few seconds later, it was obvious that the criminal was down.

The other one ran over, each long stride shaking the ground, and knelt by his fallen comrade.

Nightwing had by that time joined Cyborg at some little distance. The robotically-enhanced teen gave his team leader a narrow look. "What the hell was in that?"

"Duodec."

Cyborg's jaw dropped about half a meter. "… You're shitting me! Where'd you even find …"

"They were cleaning our clocks for us, all right? I, for one, didn't feel like getting my brass polished, if you get my drift."

"But that coulda killed him!"

"… It wasn't _**much**_ duodec."

"Oh, right, so _ladylike_ little bombs won't make him _nearly_ as dead, is that it?"

"Come on, these guys make Adonis look like an action figure! That suit was taking everything we could throw at it and …"

They interrupted their argument when they heard the remaining thief say, "Marie? Marie, you okay in there?"

Looking at each other, the two Titans mouthed, "Marie?"

Raven took that opportunity to phase up beside them. "That was an impressive explosion … too impressive, by my lights. The shock wave made me think … duodec?"

Nightwing nodded.

"And you were carrying it on your _**person?**_ Have you gone spare?"

"Oh, hey, no problem, Raven! You're just _**all kinds**_ of _**welcome**_ for my taking one of them down. Glad to do it."

"Please. Gratitude isn't the issue, Richard. _**You**_ aren't wearing a superalloy exoskeleton. We'd be collecting you with a sponge, and wouldn't Kori just _love_ that!"

"Noooooooooo!"

The long, agonized cry captured their attention. The remaining figure was standing, and it looked like the giant suit of armor was shaking with rage. "You bastards! You hurt her! One shipment! You couldn't stay away for one lousy shipment! _**Aiiiiirrrgghhhhhhhhh!"**_

Evidently his tracking hardware was better than his partner's, because he zeroed in on them instantly and threw everything he had their way.

Raven formed a shield around them and then went down on one knee from the strain. Through gritted teeth she ground out, "Get … in … close … gotta … teleport."

The other two huddled at her side, eyeing the rapidly-disintegrating shield with alarm, when a sudden, sharp tremor threw them – and their attacker – down flat. With not a small measure of disbelief, they watched as a long, redly-glowing fissure erupted between them and the guy in the suit, and an extremely ugly … _individual_ floated up out of it.

Back on his feet, the criminal turned all his vitriol toward the interloper. The Gatling cannon spun back up as he screamed, **"DIIIIEEE!"**

The hail of lead, however, seemed not to bother the being at all, meeting no apparent resistance and slamming into the ground. He turned his wizened face toward the crook, extended one knobby arm, and snapped his fingers. Instantly, every joint in the mechanism froze solid.

In a voice that dripped slime and disdain in equal measure, the being said, "Idiot."

The three Titans looked at each other. "Raven? You know this guy?"

"Never seen him before in my life." Green scales covered the being, who was clad in a blood-red kilt, two steel bandoleers bristling with short blades … and a black bow tie. "He's a demon, though. I can feel it."

Satisfied that the armored crook wouldn't be a bother, the being turned toward the Titans, who immediately powered up. It caught and held Raven's gaze, then slapped a fist across his chest and pronounced, "Hail the Gem of Scath!"

Three mouths dropped open. Raven stuttered, "Wh-wh-_**what**_ did you call me?"

Frowning, he consulted a notepad, running a black claw down the page. "… um … Gem of Scath," he muttered, "Gem of Scath, I was sure that was it …"

"How do you know me?"

It looked at her again. "Ah … you, ah … hum … that is to say … you _**are**_ the daughter of Trigon, are you not?"

"… Yes. I am. What of it?"

"Ah! Good, good. Excellent." It made the notebook vanish, then looked back at the frozen thief, blinked a few times, looked at the Titans, looked at the crook, looked at the Titans … and his shoulders slumped. "… Wait. Was he … attacking you?"

"Uh … he was. Yes. Until you intervened." She knew better than to express any sort of gratitude. One did not simply _**thank**_ a demon … for _**anything**_.

"Damn it." He shook his head. "I saved someone's life … _again?!__** Damn**__ it!"_

"But … but … sir," began Nightwing before Raven quickly shushed him.

The demonic thing didn't seem to notice. It blew a sigh of disgust, and said, "Whatever. Just … just … whatever. Like my record could get any worse." Then, squaring its shoulders, it formally intoned, "Salutations and felicitations to the Gem of Scath upon attaining her maturity."

She stared at him. "Excuse me, _what?"_

A frown answered that question, and he repeated himself.

"What do you mean by that?"

He pulled out his notebook again. "… Age eighteen and a half Earth years… errr … date of birth October 23rd … ah … one minute before midnight … um … yes." He gave a decisive nod and snapped the book closed, whereupon it disappeared in a black wisp. "Today you are two hundred and twenty-two months old. You are officially of legal age to assume the responsibilities of your station."

"… My station."

"Yes."

"And what, precisely, would my 'station' be?"

He looked at her as if she had questioned the existence of air. "You are Trigon's heir."

She spluttered, and then gave in to a coughing fit. He waited until she was done. "So, if you would be so good as to come along …"

"Whoa!" objected Nightwing. "Just a second! Who _**are**_ you?"

The creature's eyes took on a glow of yellow balefire. "Are you asking my Truename, sub-creature?"

Raven quickly intervened. "No! No, he isn't." She gave Nightwing a quelling look. "He just wants to know what you would like us to call you."

Somewhat placated, he answered, "You may call me Glitch."

Cyborg repressed a chuckle, but couldn't keep the grin off his face. "Glitch, huh?"

The imp stared at him, and then spoke to Raven. "Are these creatures your servants, Dread Lady? Because, frankly you could do better."

"… Um …" She glanced between the two men and said, "In … a manner of speaking."

Glitch waved a dismissive hand. "I will get you a cadre of imps. They will perform much more …"

"Glitch?"

"… Yes, Dread Lady?"

"What, precisely, is entailed in these 'responsibilities' you mentioned? Trigon never seemed as if he _**had**_ to do **_anything_ **except consume whole dimensions."

"Um … well, as it pertains to that … um …"

"Are you afraid to tell me?"

"No! Um …" It fiddled with its collar. "That is … we, ah, need you to frame the new tax code."

She said nothing for a quarter minute, but then stated, flatly, "Tax code."

"Yes, Dread Lady."

"Hell … has taxes?"

"… It _**IS**_ Hell, Dread Lady."

"Of course." She looked over at the two criminals. "Hold that thought for a sec." Then her Great Bird form took flight, surrounding the two in impenetrable darkness for about twenty seconds. When the pall lifted, the mechanical constructs were gone, and a man and a woman lay there, shivering violently. "We're going to drop these two off with the police. Then you and I are going to sit down and have nice, long talk."

"As you desire, Dread Lady."

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Raven sat across the kitchen table from Glitch as her soul-self prepared herbal tea. "Do you take tea, Glitch?"

"Why are your servants not preparing your victuals?!"

"They never get it right. Do you take tea?"

"Ah … no. A spot of hot vinegar wouldn't go amiss, though."

Suppressing her urge to wrinkle her nose, Raven reflected that this was no more odd than Starfire's penchant for mustard. She and the imp would probably get on famously … at least until he tried to steal her soul. Their bottle of vinegar wafted out of the shelf on a disk of black energy.

Cyborg and Nightwing sat somewhat off to the side. Glitch had snubbed them both dead anytime either spoke to him, but they were stubborn. "I don't like it, Raven. He's a demon, right? It's his job to trick people!"

"That may be, Richard, but he is also one of Trigon's subaltern's."

"… Meaning what?"

"Meaning that he couldn't trick me or be disloyal to me or bring me harm in any fashion, even if he wanted to." She leaned toward the imp. "And I don't believe he wants to. Do you, Glitch?"

"Assuredly, Dread Lady, I do not."

"That's another thing!" objected Cyborg. "Where's he get off with that 'Dread Lady' shtick?"

"It's my title now."

"… Huh?"

"Apparently I'm a Demon Lord, given Trigon's deceased state. The appropriate form of address is 'Dread Lord' … or 'Lady', in my case." Contemplating the imp, she stated, "What I need more, though, is some of the details of the position. For instance, how do you fit into the scheme of things, Glitch?"

"Ah … you might think of me as your, ah, _chargé d'affaires_."

"Really."

"Yes, Dread Lady."

"So." She drummed her fingers on the table . "Tell me about Hell. What are the conditions there?"

"Oh, delightfully wretched, Dread Lady!"

"Uh-huh. Lots of souls in torment, that sort of thing?"

"Well … not so many as one might imagine, Dread Lady."

"Really? Why?"

"Your Sire was … fond of them."

"… Fond?"

"Flayed and roasted. He could consume several thousand at a sitting."

She just blinked at him.

"And of course once he consumed their vital essence, they dissolved and returned to the aether. So we really don't have all that many left. Perhaps … half a million?"

"That really _doesn't_ sound like all that many."

"Raven!" yelled Nightwing, "how can you be so blasé about souls being tormented?"

Glitch stared at the Titan. "Dread Lady, I would be happy to dispose of …"

"No, Glitch. You may not comprehend how things work in this dimension, so I'll just tell you straight up: you may not harm either of these humans, or through inaction allow them to come to harm. Got it?"

His lips pursed in distaste. "As you wish, Dread Lady."

"Guess they must not bathe much in Hell, either," said Cyborg.

Raven gave him a puzzled look. "Not that I could disagree with you, but why would you come to that conclusion?"

"Because he smells like rotten eggs. He could use a bath right now."

Glitch was incensed. "It is NOT body odor! Imps are SUPPOSED to smell like brimstone, you cretin!"

"Well, _excuuuuuuuse_ me! How would I know that?"

"You might ask! Such manners! Dread Lady, how can you condone …"

She held up a hand. "All of you, stuff it. Guys, just because I'm not allowing him to rip your skin off, turn it inside out and stuff you back in does NOT mean that you are free to antagonize him."

The boys looked somewhat queasy at her description. "Right," said Nightwing. "Got it," said Cyborg.

Glitch actually grinned. "What a marvelous idea!" he crowed, taking out his notepad. "I'll have to write that one down."

"Yeah, you're welcome." She got her tea and Glitch's cup of vinegar and brought them to the table. "Now, about these taxes …"

"Oh, yes! It is time for you to write the new tax code."

"Glitch … just whom, exactly, are we taxing? Other demons? The tormented souls? What is the medium of exchange? How are taxes collected?"

"Most taxes are taken from the demons who aren't in Hell at the time. They are the ones with access to new souls. We also tax the Fae."

"So … souls are the medium of exchange?"

"Souls are the barter goods. Most demons turn them in for mephits, though."

"… Mephits?"

"Currency. Coins of different denominations. They're made of hellstone." He reached into … somewhere … and pulled out a couple of small, black objects. "This is one. It's worth thirty-three souls. And that one's worth ninety-nine. It's a lot easier to transport than the souls, unless you've got a soul bottle. Trigon liked soul bottles. He had a couple that would hold some ten thousand souls."

"Raven!"

She gave Nightwing a look. "What? You want me to be upset about damned souls? You do realize they do it to themselves, don't you?"

"But … innocent people …"

"Bullshit!" spat Glitch. "Innocent? The only thing the souls in Hell are 'innocent' of is how to make a sound decision. Greedy, grasping bastards, every last one of them. And no manners at all."

"Very well, then," said Raven, back on task, "These mephits can be traded in for … what? What do demons eat? Are the demons in Hell expected to pay rent? Do they even live in houses?"

"Errrrr … not as such, unless one is a peer, then he'll have a palace or mansion or estate. Each Demon Lord or Earl or Count or Baron or Knight takes a fealty tax from his subjects every eleventh month …"

"There you go again with the months," observed Raven. "Why is that better than 'years'?"

"Years vary depending upon the world in question. Months, however, are surprisingly constant. The length of the average of the standard Earth month, at about 30.4 Sidereal Days, is identical to the Standard Month used in Hell, which is 33 Infernal Days."

"… Oh. I guess that makes sense."

"I am so gratified you think so."

"And you can stow the sarcasm."

"Yes, Dread Lady."

"So I get to tax my underlings? How much?"

"I have brought a copy of the current code, if you would like to go over it." A tall stack of parchment appeared on the table, giving off heat and light wisps of deep red smoke.

"Ah. Very well. That would seem to be the most direct route to take." She eyed the documents with a tiny bit of trepidation. "How often am I going to have to do this?"

"Once every sixty-six months."

She turned and gave him a look. "You guys sure do have a thing for repeated numbers. 222 months, 66 months, 11 months, coins worth 33 or 99 souls, 33 Infernal Days. What's up with that?

He held his nose in the air (which placed the tip of said nose considerably higher than the crown of his head) and stated, "I do not make the rules, Dread Lady, nor do I question them. These are the laws of Hell. They were set by beings vastly older, wiser, and more powerful than I. I simply do as I must."

"Right, sorry. It _**is**_ Hell, and that means weird constrictions of logic." She let the tendrils of smoke from the stack slip up through her fingers. "Every sixty-six months, huh? Doesn't sound like something my father would have enjoyed."

"Trigon never had a problem with it. He looked forward to it, actually, and usually came up with a new tax or three."

"I'll just bet he did." Then something occurred to her. "Glitch?"

"Yes, Dread Lady?"

"Is there any rule that says I have to live in Hell?"

"Ah … no. Not strictly speaking. It _is_ considered good form to spend a few days there every few months, though."

"That won't be a problem." She indicated the tax code. "So Father Dear wrote this one?"

"He did."

"Does it work?"

"… Eh … Hmm. It works about as well as such a thing can be expected to work."

"Is there an approval page?"

Glitch scratched at one long ear. He could see where this was going. "Yes. The last sheet. But you are supposed to go through the code and redline everything you wish to change, and then submit Form HTC104 in duplicate so that …"

"Stop." She held up a hand. "Do you guys use computers at all?"

"Oh, Hell, no! Even _we_ aren't THAT masochistic!"

"I see. Well, that may be about to change. In the meantime …" and here she pulled the bottom sheet out from under the pile, "I think we can do with sixty-six more months of the same." Willing one of her teeth to become a fang, she pricked the end of her forefinger and used it to sign her name next to the seal. "There you go."

Glitch sighed deeply. "Thank you, Dread Lady."

"Now, one more thing before you vanish so I can get my beauty sleep: how do I get hold of you if I want you?"

"Simply concentrate on my name." He leaned over and whispered his Truename in her ear.

She nodded. "Thank you, Glitch. You are dismissed now."

The imp dissolved into a smelly cloud of smoke.

Raven turned to her teammates. "Well. Obviously we have a lot to talk about. Tomorrow."

Cyborg smirked, "Sure thing, 'Mistress'."

"Yeah, you get used to that." She floated over and draped an arm around each man's neck. "Because it looks like the Titans are in for a Hell of an interesting time."

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_**Author's Note**__: I certainly hope you enjoyed this little piece as much as my Muse did. Merry Late Christmas!_

_Reviews = Love!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Death and Taxes**

by Concolor44

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_**Author's Note**__: And so the team got back together and Raven explained everything logically and everyone was totally copacetic with the situation …_

… _Nah. I didn't think it would happen that way either._

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**Chapter Two**

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_Jump City, April 25th, 9:00am_

The soft _shwoosh_ that the Common Room door made as it opened reminded Raven of the automatic doors in that ridiculous old science-fiction show that Victor and Gar were so fond of. _What's it called again? Star Journey? Space Trek? Eh, whatever. _Temporarily content with the world and her place in it, she floated over to where Nightwing sat at the main console, slowing abruptly when she caught sight of Batman's stern scowl on the monitor. The Dark Knight seemed less than pleased.

Nightwing sighed in frustration. "You were the one who insisted they were ideal for the mission. How is this my fault?"

"Their teamwork was sorely lacking. It was as if they didn't know how to conduct a battle together. Given that you've been working as a team for four years …"

"Yes, that's right. **WE** have been working together as a team. Not small groups of us. I told you that when you first brought this mission up! If the whole team were there, and I handled the logistics, it wouldn't have been an issue. And besides, Terra only got her memories back seven months ago, and then spent the next three in the blackest depression you could imagine before Raven …"

"I know all that."

"Then why are you giving _**me**_ down-the-road over something we weren't prepared for?"

"Precisely _**because**_ you didn't prepare for it."

His mouth drawing down into a hard line, the Titans' leader answered, "Fine. As soon as they get back, we will immediately begin training in small groups on the miniscule-but-now-possibly-finite chance of this ever happening again."

"Don't take that tone wi-"

Nightwing cut the connection and slumped in his chair. Four seconds later, the com light started blinking in time to the insistent tone indicating a call from the Justice League Watchtower. He muted it and flipped the system over to automatic. Without looking at her, he mumbled, "Hello, Raven."

"I was going to wish you a good morning, but it looks like I'm a bit late for that."

"He is _never_ satisfied with _anything_ I do. Never was. Never will be."

"None of which is your fault. He's a prick."

That pulled an appreciative snort from her teammate. "Yeah. He is, isn't he?"

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "I wanted to thank you again for not telling them yet."

Patting her hand, he responded, "Not a problem. Plenty of time for that later." A dry chuckle preceded, "Besides, I want to see Zatanna's face when she finds out you're a Demon Lord."

"Hmph. I don't."

"Nor do you have to, speaking of pricks."

"I don't know that she can technically be called a 'prick' … unless she has one."

"No chance. Given her outfit, that would already be common knowledge."

"Ha-ha."

He looked up at her. "You had breakfast?"

"Not hungry. I was just coming after some tea."

"You mind if I toast a couple waffles?"

"Go right ahead." As she floated away toward the kitchen, she asked, "You get an ETA on the others yet?"

He followed her into the kitchen and went to the refrigerator. "Kori said they should be back before lunch."

"First lunch or second lunch?"

"Um … I didn't ask. Good point though." He grinned as he pulled out an open box of frozen waffles and inspected the contents. "Too bad the diet industry can't duplicate her metabolism in a pill."

"Indeed." She put the water on and dropped a tea ball into her favorite mug. "Would you call her and find out?"

His grin grew wider. "Antsy?"

"… Possibly just a bit."

"Heh. Yeah, I'll call her." He dropped the waffles into the toaster before heading back to the control center.

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_11:10am_

Leaving a long, swooping contrail in her wake, Princess Koriand'r of Tamaran led the aerial procession to the top of Titans' Tower. She bounced excitedly as she touched down in front of the hangar for their VTOL, then turned to the other two, flinging her arms wide. "Is it not so _**very**_ glorious to be back home?!"

Gar Logan briefly exchanged the roc form he'd been using for a hummingbird, circled the alien once, and landed, standing up in his human 'resting state'. "Got that right. After the shellackin' we got handed? Stupid freeze ray. I don't even want any cold _**drinks**_ for a while." He stretched in a few directions and drew a deep breath. "Ahhhhhh. The sweet, sweet smell of Jump City pollution. Pure nectar."

Terra eased her boulder into a spot alongside the others lined up around the roof's perimeter, hopped off, and trotted over. "I want a shower. I want pizza. And I want my bed. In that order."

"Sounds good to me, babe." Gar snaked an arm around her waist. "You need help with any of those?"

She shot him a sidelong glance and then smirked. "Could be. There's this spot on my back I can't quite reach …"

"Friends, let us continue this inside! I wish to see love Richard!"

The other two snickered and followed the excitable alien into the elevator.

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_1:45pm_

Raven opened one eye when the knock came on her door. Her empathic field expanded to include that area of the hall; she nodded to herself. A bit of black mist appeared and encased the control plate, whereupon the door slid open, and Cyborg stuck his head in.

She regarded him warmly. "Yes, Vic?"

"The Randy Dandies are finally done twisting their sheets."

"May Azar be lauded for small favors."

He chuckled. "I told 'em you had an announcement. They're all headed more or less in the direction of the Common Room."

"Thank you. I'll be right there."

Two minutes later she floated up the hall toward the meeting, spotting Cyborg right as he entered the room. She paused just outside, feeling around with her empathy for the general mood, and finding it … if not gracious, at least acceptable. Sex had a calming effect on Terra and Gar, but Starfire's alien physiology was different. She was wound up tight for the duration. Soon, she would be insisting that she and Nightwing 'partake in the mating' again. Raven had seen it often enough to be familiar with the drill.

That didn't mean the side effects were any easier to put up with.

Squaring her shoulders, reinforcing her psychic shield, and taking a few calming breaths, she touched down and walked in, striding determinedly up to a place in front of the huge TV screen. She surveyed her teammates.

Gar sat in the middle of the long couch, a dark green vegan smoothie in his left hand, his right playing with Terra's hair while she lay with her head in his lap. They both wore contented smiles. To their right, Starfire was curled up against Nightwing's side, her brilliant green eyes more luminous than usual. She fairly radiated her anticipation of getting her lover back in the sack; for his part, Richard was glad for a bit of a break, at least for a while (he wasn't exactly bruised – much – but even the best Earthly stamina was a far cry from what the alien princess was capable of, and he needed his second wind). Victor sat to Changeling's left, just close enough that Terra could prop her crossed ankles on his super-alloy thigh.

Raven allowed herself a tiny smile. This small, tightly-knit group of truly exceptional people comprised her family. She loved them fiercely, though most of the time she was limited in how much of that she could express.

Terra opened one eye and grinned. "Hey, Rae. We missed you _**bad**_ on that last shit-fest."

"Amen!" said Gar forcefully.

"That is most true," agreed Starfire, nodding. "I grow weary of these scientists of the madness who wish to control the world. This one, this Dr. Commando, was very obviously not _**capable**_ of operating the world, if he had been so fortunate as to succeed in his plan. He was …" She glanced over at the geomancer. "What term was it that you used in order to do the describing of him, Terra? It was most unusual."

"His cheese done slid off his cracker."

Raven gave a tiny wince at the mangled English.

Starfire's smile returned. "Yes! That was the phrase. And Victor had some descriptions also, about having an insufficient number of clowns to conduct a circus, and … something about … roofing materials?"

"A few shingles short of a roof," he supplied.

"Yes, correct. These are analogies, and are very interesting. The central idea is that his mind was not whole."

Gar chuckled. "His mind _**had**_ a few holes."

"Indeed. His sanity was highly questionable." Starfire looked back at Raven. "But now Victor has informed us of an announcement that you have wished to make, yes?"

The empath nodded assent. "I do." She drew a short breath and said, "A few days ago, while you three were on your mission, we got a call to go to Beecham Industrial Park to investigate a robbery. It sounded at the time as if it would be a simple arrest, but the thieves had some very advanced, very powerful armor, and things got –"

A flashing red light, accompanied by an ululating siren, interrupted her. Several very creative curses ran through her mind, but she just sighed and said, "I suppose it can wait."

Nightwing, meanwhile, ran to the monitor and tapped the RECEIVE button. Frowning, he said, "Well. That's different."

"Whatcha got?" called Cyborg, already on his way to the door. Changeling morphed into something very large and hairy with four legs and a huge head, and Terra climbed onto his back. Starfire had zipped over next to Richard.

"Something is attacking city hall."

"… Some_**thing?**_ Not some_**one?**_"

"Correct. Let's go." They all headed to the roof. The guys piled into the VTOL; the girls flew. They were downtown in just under a minute and a half.

"Okay," offered Cyborg as he circled the building, looking for a good place to set down, "I give up. What is it?"

Nightwing studied the tableau. "My first impression would be that Dr. Light was up to his old tricks, except that he's in prison."

"And after tangling with Raven three times, he swore off Jump City for good," added Changeling.

Victor said, "So … maybe he's got a protégé?"

Terra's voice came in over their earpieces. "Hey, guys? I'm fresh outta 'what-the-fucks' on this one. 'Wing, you got any ideas?"

"Not just yet. Let's convene at Broad and First."

"Roger."

When the six of them were face to face again, Cyborg put his hands on his hips, stared at the … _intruders_, and said, "My patented Can 'O Whoopin' Giant Worms Made of Light is still under development." He glanced over at the resident empath. "Rae? You ever …"

"Not even close. But I _**can**_ tell you they're organic."

"… Say what?"

"I know, I know … they look like a solidified laser show. But they've got rudimentary intelligence … of some kind." She shook her head slowly. "I'm almost _**positive**_ they didn't originate in this dimension."

"Great," said Gar, "so what are they doin' here?"

Terra poked his arm and pointed. "I'll bet you can ask him."

The rest of them jerked around and stared at the bizarre figure who had appeared from behind one of the colossal creatures. Tall, thin, and dressed all in white, he wore a long cape and a ridiculously tall mitre-like hat with several thin pipes sticking out of it. He also held a long staff that seemed to be made of some kind of clear crystal that shot jets of blue flame from its top end, with which he was directing the movements of the brace of giant, glowing worms.

"Yes!" they heard him cry, "Dig, my children! Dig and burrow and sap! Soon the city will be mine!"

Starfire got Nightwing's attention. "Is this another of the scientists of madness?"

"I'm afraid so, Kori." He gathered the others and quickly outlined a plan. Then they scattered.

The white-clad figure apparently remained oblivious to the imminent attack. "Dig, you great, shining beasts! Dig at my bidding! Muwah-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Changeling whispered to Cyborg, "Do they _**always**_ do that?"

"Far as I know," he whispered back. "Comes with the whole 'mad scientist' territory, best I can figure." Toggling his earpiece, he said, "We're in position, 'Wing."

"Roger, Cyborg. Raven, Starfire, whenever you're ready."

A staccato barrage of brilliant green plasma packets tattooed a line down the side of one of the huge worm-like creatures. Instantly it jerked from the ground and began writhing in pain. The other beast encountered a black, swirling storm of psychic knives that poked and prodded it into a squealing ball.

The white-robed conductor of the beastly invasion screamed in rage and swung his crystal staff around in Starfire's direction, but she was ready and met his attack with one of her own. They traded blasts for a few seconds until a column of semi-solid sound struck him in the back, knocking him ass-over-elbows. He skidded to a stop (minus his hat) several meters past where he had stood, but immediately bounced back to his feet and leveled his staff at Cyborg.

That's when the ground under him split open, an eerie red light spilling from the crack. He yelled, windmilled his arms a few times, and almost regained his footing on the edge, but a huge, gnarled, black claw grabbed his ankle and jerked him down. Then Glitch floated up out of the hole, sent a salute to Raven, and vanished in a cloud of smoke. The crack in the ground closed with a very final-sounding thud.

The giant worms instantly grew faint. The air around them wavered briefly, like shimmers of heat from a desert road, there was a weird sort of twisting of the light, and they, too, vanished.

The Titans all just stayed where they were for a moment, shocked into immobility by the sudden lack of an opponent. Shaking it off, Nightwing broadcast, "Terra, can you feel where they went? Are they under the city?"

"No! There's nothing! And that … that sinkhole-thingy … it wasn't real!"

"… Say again?"

"It was … bogus? The earth didn't move. It just looked like it did. There wasn't _**really**_ a big crack in the ground. It was some kind of illusion."

Never slow on the uptake, Nightwing said, "Raven, would you care to explain?"

She had been floating back down to his location, and landed in front of him. Sighing, she said, "Would everyone please gather here with Nightwing? I need to finish that announcement."

. . .

. . .

. . .

_Somewhat later, back at the Tower …_

Changeling and Terra sat against each other, very subdued. Starfire looked to be close to tears, and Raven patted her on the shoulder. "It's not the end of the world, Kori. We already did that, remember?"

"But … but you will have to leave!"

"No." She shook her head emphatically. "All I have to do is visit now and then. Glitch can't lie to me, even in the small things, so I …"

"And when must you go and make this 'visit' to Hell?"

"… He didn't give me a time frame."

Cyborg had been silent for a few minutes, but finally asked, "And he took the guy when he did … just because of what you said to him about not hurtin' me an' 'Wing?"

She nodded. "It was the way I phrased it. I'd recently read Asimov's story, 'I, Robot', and the wording in the Three Laws just came to me. His inaction in that scenario would have resulted in harm to you – however he interprets _**that**_ – and so he acted."

"But he didn't do anything about Star tradin' blows with that dipweed …"

"Because I'd not mentioned her in my orders. Correct."

Terra spoke up, "So, do we get to meet this Glitch fella? I mean, besides just as a really scary hand reaching up out of a crack in the dirt?"

"Um … well … I suppose it would be best for him to know who all of you are. But he's, uhhh … not what you'd call friendly. At all. He's one of my liege-demons, but he really considers mortals to be, at best, beneath his notice."

"Well, geez," put in Changeling, "at a _minimum_ we gotta know what he looks like! I mean, if he's gonna be showin' up in our battles – an' it looks like he might be doin' that kinda regular – we don't want to mistake him for some enemy and attack him."

"True. That would not go well. For you." She looked around at the group. "Very well, then. I will …"

"Hang on," interrupted Cyborg. "Guys, there's one other thing. He smells really funky, but he's kinda sensitive about it, so don't say anything about his b.o., 'kay?"

The demon in question appeared in a noxious cloud immediately in front of Victor. Under the _best_ of conditions, his face would sour milk in a three-block radius. Now, since he wore an expression befitting his current pissed-off state, looking at his face caused actual, physical distress. Directing his ire at Cyborg, he hissed, "I told you before, you _**cretin**_, imps are **SUPPOSED** to smell like brimstone!"

His human eye watering fiercely, Victor quickly nodded. "Right! Sorry! My bad!"

"It is NOT body odor!"

"Yeah, caught that." His voice sounded strangled. "Brimstone, not b.o. Check." He was frantically trying to come up with an alternate to breathing, and beginning to look a bit green around the edges.

The half-robot's dire straits seemed to amuse the imp, as a truly evil smile crawled across his face. He leaned forward, his poker-like nose nearly touching Vic's. "Are we having problems, then, hmm? Maybe if you minded your manners …"

"Glitch," interrupted Raven, "personal space."

"Of course, Dread Lady." With a casual wave he dissipated the brimstone-flavored cloud, and then floated over to stand to her left, arms crossed. Robin, Cyborg, Changeling and Terra drew quick (and very relieved) breaths.

Starfire, however, had watched the exchange with growing puzzlement. She rose and floated over to the imp. "Mr. Glitch?"

He regarded her ominously, and then frowned. "You are not a human."

"Ah … no." She blinked at him. "My home planet is Tamaran."

His frown deepened. He pulled out his notepad and flipped through it. "… Tamaran … Tamaran … Didn't I read something about … Was that Tamaran? … Am I spelling it right? … Thought they all got killed by the Citadel … But that's been a while, maybe it was that other bunch … Ah! Yes, of course! Here it is." He read for a moment, then nodded grimly. "Yes. Vega system. Constantly at war. I remember now. Lots of casualties, but not even a _handful_ of souls." He stared at her narrowly. "Your people are disgustingly noble. Hell would starve if we had to depend on Tamaran for souls."

She held her head primly erect. "And that is as it should be for a warrior race."

Raven put in, "Did you have a question, Star?"

The alien started slightly, recalling that she did. "Yes! I wanted to know: this 'brimstone' of which you speak … what is it?"

"Um … it's just another name for sulfur, and occasionally its compounds. Why do you ask?"

She clasped her hands in front of her, smiling brightly. "Because it reminds me of Klaak'megtra Pudding! When I was small, my knorfka would sometimes make it for me if I behaved very nicely." She leaned forward and took a long sniff of the slight fumes coming off the imp. "It reminds me of my home during the better times of my childhood."

Glitch looked at her in confusion and then turned to Raven. "Dread Lady, is she quite sane?"

"Of course. But she isn't human, and her culinary proclivities are decidedly different."

"So it would seem."

Raven cleared her throat. "Everyone, this is Glitch." She went around and introduced the others to the imp.

He was unimpressed.

"Now, Glitch," she continued, "I wonder if you might tell me what happened to that cloaked fellow you grabbed earlier."

The question seemed to worry him. "He is safely contained in the Eight Circle, of course, Dread Lady."

"Ah. So I had assumed. And his body?"

"… His, ah … his body, Dread Lady?"

"Yes. His corpus. His Earthly vessel. His flesh and blood. His mortal clay. What of that?"

"… Um … well … ah, that is to say …"

"You toasted him, didn't you?"

"It is, ah, standard procedure, Dread Lady."

"I see." She tapped a delicate foot for a moment. "And might there be anything **_left_ **of said body?"

"Um … that, um, would depend upon your current definition of 'body'."

"Is it viable?"

He sucked on his cheek for a moment and then gave his head a tiny shake.

"So, to use a term Cyborg likes to throw around concerning his video game avatars, that fellow is Crispy Critters?"

"That would, um, would be a true and accurate statement."

"Hmm."

"He fit right in. His soul, I mean."

"I'm sure he did."

"He didn't even appear shocked to be in Hell. Many of them are, you know, especially the regular church-goers."

"Indeed." She straightened and gave him a keen stare. "Glitch, I am recalling the second part of my command to you regarding Richard Greyson and Victor Stone."

The imp – and the two Titans in question – all frowned and paid closer attention. Glitch said, "Which command would that be, Dread Lady?"

"You are no longer bound to keep them from harm by inaction."

"Ah. Well." That seemed to trouble him. "Might I inquire … um, that is … of course, Dread Lady."

"I know you are counting all the souls you now _**won't**_ be harvesting via that protection racket, but the human world doesn't really work that way."

"Of course, Dread Lady."

"In the first place, making the perpetrators vanish out of hand means that we lose an avenue of information. That is frequently of more value than the capture of the crook."

"Yes, Dread Lady."

"In the second place, you might snag an innocent person through a series of mis-communications. We can't have that, either."

"Definitely not, Dread Lady."

Raven could tell how much that admission pained the demon. She successfully hid her smirk. "That will be all, Glitch."

"Very good, Dread Lady." And he was gone.

Cyborg objected, "Geez, Rae, did ya really have to go that far?"

She regarded him with a tiny smile. "You'll get by. Besides, if Glitch was going to show up every time you got in a fight, and **end** that fight, you'd get bored."

Starfire got her attention. "Can you get him to appear when you wish?"

"I can."

"Glorious! Now I simply must acquire the remaining ingredients!" And she was gone in a wash of brilliant red hair.

Nightwing's head was in his hands. "Raven … what have you done?"

She looked none too sanguine herself. "I have a feeling we'll be finding out soon."

Changeling rose and helped Terra to her feet. "Welp. Looks like we'll be staying with Titans East until her cooking frenzy blows over."

Richard pointed a stern finger at him. "You, mister, are not going anywhere. If the rest of us have to suffer …"

"Aw, come on, 'Wing, have a heart!"

"Sorry. Fresh out."

Cyborg trotted for the door. Over his shoulder, he tossed back, "I'll be charging if anybody needs me." Then under his breath he added, "… for the foreseeable future."

. . .

. . .

. . .

_**Author's Note**__: Will Star get to make her pudding? More to the point, will she get Glitch to try it? Stay tuned!_

_Reviews = Love!_


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